Mistakes Lead To Something Good
by Moviemuncher
Summary: Stephen is alive, and he finds Helen. What will happen? Can he forgive the sadistic woman who let him die? Did she mean to let him die? And will the team find him too? Special appearances from some SHIELD characters, spoilers for Series 1 and 2 of Primeval. Please review, story will only continue if I get some interest.


Chapter 1:

Agent Stephen Hart was laid in a bed heavily medicated. He looked ridiculously thin and frail with cuts littering his arms and face, and many more unseen under the hospital gown and sheets. His usually long and unruly hair was shaven short due to a head injury he'd received from the creatures. He had several broken bones including five broken ribs, his left leg in two places, his right wrist and the left collarbone. He'd been extremely lucky that none of his ribs had pierced his lungs and heart or any other organ; however the muscles hadn't fared so well. In some places they were still growing back with the help of Stark technology and of course several other SHIELD scientists. It would take several months recovery, fortunately, SHIELD were willing to go through the trouble for one of their agents, particularly one with some fascinating information.

Fury exited the grey room with the beeping, flashing monitors and the pale man in its midst. He would have to wait.

Now was too early for Agent Hart to be awoken without being in considerable discomfort and agony. Understandable, considering he'd almost been eaten alive by predators from the past and the future. But still, it was patience-wearing work.

When they'd stormed the ARC's operation, cutting in to rescue their agent from the screwed up plans of one wayward woman and her weak government lackey, they found he'd sacrificed himself for someone with whom he'd worked for, for several years. His mission status during those eight years was unknown. He'd had no mission, and he'd taken up other work. He'd never once been contacted by SHIELD but when he'd discovered the strange and mysterious 'anomalies' he'd contacted SHIELD almost immediately, and thanks to these actions he was able to be saved. If he'd never bothered to share the British secrets with them they'd never have known he was in danger.

He walked down the corridors until he reached the elevator, which he swiftly entered and jabbed at the button that led to the ground floor of this facility. He was leaving; he had a very difficult billionaire to handle and a gamma radiation scientist to track.

**Chapter 2: **

A/n: Seeing as C1 is very short I'm including chapter 2 in the same update .

**14 months later.**

Stephen Hart sat on the edge of his own bed of his old apartment in London. He was fully recuperated and working his way back into the normal world. His official status was no longer dead, it is noted however that the government made a mistake regarding his abrupt disappearance (the official story is he was kidnapped by a crazed lunatic who hated Stephen's father) and declared him dead when in fact he was just 'missing'. Nobody at the ARC knew yet although Stephen was still half-expecting to run into Connor at the shopping centre or Abby at the zoo which he'd visited once since his return to London. Even though none of his old friends had turned up he assumed at least Lester knew he was alive being a high up official whose staff had just been resurrected.

He scowled at the wall opposite, this flat that had been regularly invaded by Helen. A woman who had slipped under all his defences and chipped at his walls until he let her seep through those cracks to hold him up. It was like being filled with foam when he really needed cement, the foam would be washed away while the cement would have held him for longer. It's funny that both the cement and foam was Cutter's. Only one Cutter hadn't bothered. This flat he still double checked the lock of because of old times. This flat that only served to remind him of the most terrifying time in his life and that led to his being ripped apart.

He still had a month down time from the agency and he doubted they'd give him an active mission straight away, just some more paperwork and then they'd agreed he was to gather more information about these anomalies. Fury was worried because of a highly classified case he called the Tesseract. Stephen had no idea what it was and he had no intentions of finding out, he was to do his job with no questions asked. That was where he went wrong with the ARC; he questioned authority, his morals and his friends. And he'd already decided he was moving out of this flat, which was his month planned.

When he'd returned to this place, a month ago, he'd almost panicked when he'd found Helen's things. Was she still here? Did she regularly visit? But then he thought they must just be stuff she left over a year ago. Still, there was nagging doubt in his mind. Sure, there had been no electricity but Helen had lived without that amenity for years, and he'd been told the water had been left on, an oversight made by SHIELD who'd frozen his assets and kept his flat for him. Now his assets were unfrozen and considerably heavier. Well, hazard pay was high in this kind of job.

He sighed. It was nine pm and he couldn't relax, not here and especially when he'd already drank his house dry of tea and booze. He'd forgotten to pick up coffee in his last shopping excursion. Time for a late night stroll. He stood and pulled on the jeans from earlier, re-buttoned his shirt and tugged on his boots. The jacket he grabbed from the hook by the door was dark and warm. Swiftly he descended the stairs, forgoing the elevator as it was 'out of order'. Shouldering the door he stepped out into a light drizzling rain. Moisture coated his scarred face, running in the shallow rivulets of the worst. Gusts of wind ruffled his hair and made his bright blue eyes narrow at the cold. His warm jacket now useless he strode on until he reached the local pub. It was quite lively whereas the streets he'd just walked were dead. People were singing along to the music being played and some swayed in their seats to the beat while some just swayed all the way to the floor before being dragged back into their seats, another drink being poured down their throat by enthusiastic friends. A crowd he would have loved a little over two years ago, one he could have enjoyed slightly eighteen months ago. Now, now he couldn't cope with the chattering girls and boisterous men. Sometime he was reminded of Connor or Abby by the vibrant youths and that hurt. But he'd rather suffer in the noise and feel more secure than in the empty silence of his apartment where he felt paranoid. So, with that in mind, he approached the bar.

"Double scotch, please" He asked the woman, rifling some money out of his wallet.

She smiled and poured him his drink and they traded goods, he let her keep the change and was rewarded with an even bigger smile, this one genuine. He saluted her with his glass before downing it all. Her smile slipped and concern crinkled the corner of her eyes. He gestured for a refill, handing her some more money (she got to keep the change again) and she filled it up to the brim, which he wondered probably wasn't allowed.

This time he sipped slowly, savouring the sharp burn of whisky.

Then once he'd consumed enough to move it away from the bar without it spilling over the edge he moved away from it and to a corner booth which he assumed was empty.

It wasn't.

Movement ceased for him and he stared in slight horror at the person in the booth. It was Cutter. Specifically, it was Helen.

She looked up when she sensed someone staring and she too froze a similar look of horror on her face. Then she grinned and patted the seat next to her, daring him to. He didn't refuse, which he noted with grim satisfaction, surprised her.

"Stephen" she stated.

"Helen."

"I know the date and I also know this shouldn't be possible" she mused.

"No, it shouldn't be. I should be dead, and really, so should you" he told her matter of factly. She narrowed her eyes at him, her intelligent and cold orbs curious.

"I should have made Nick let that raptor drag you back in" he clarified and she glared. He calmly sipped his drink.

"Well, hindsight is all well and good but how the hell are you alive?"

"You're not the only one with secrets Helen" he replied cryptically.

"Do you still live at your old place?" She asked innocently.

"No" he lied. She nodded and let it go.

"Good, I suppose. Be stupid if you did. Now, how about you and I share one last meal together?" She leant on to the table, swiping his glass and drank from it. When she handed it back he took one last gulp and gave it back to her.

"It goes against my better judgement" he breathed. She looked disappointed.

"But what the hell, I do enough stupid stunts, I've lived so far" he finished and stood, he didn't wait for her to follow, he just started walking. When he forced his way out of the pub he could hear her boots squelching on the wet ground along with his.

"Oooh, do tell, where to?" She cooed a mockery of excitement and wonder.

"You pick" he told her, stopping. She paused too, thinking it over.

"Well, the places I miss have strict dress codes" she told him. He sighed.

"What sort of dress code?" He huffed, already regretting that he'd let her choose.

"Black tie" she hummed. He scowled.

"Fine. I have a suit back at mine, but what are you going to wear?" He pointed at her tattered, worn and filthy clothing.

"Let me worry about that. How about we meet at Sadie's Garden in an hour? You better show up" she said slipping off down a street. He exhaled gustily and spun around, he stormed through the dark, wet and empty streets.

His apartment was warm when he entered it and he was grateful. He figured he had time for a shower before he suited up. His shower was spectacular when he was stressed; it jetted water at his marred skin at an incredible speed and pounded out the knots that garnered in his muscles.

When he stepped out of the shower though, he instantly went on full alert. He could hear light footsteps now the water was shut off. He grabbed his boxers from the floor and jammed them on despite the fact that he was soaking wet and in that state wouldn't cover much. Then he snuck to the bathroom door, trying to make as little noise as possible. It was pulled open before he could push it.

"What are you doing in Stephen's apartment!"

"What are you doing in my apartment!"

They yelled at the same time and they stared at each other in comical disbelief. He would have laughed if it wasn't Helen, again.

"I thought you said you didn't live here anymore?" She accused.

"Why are you still coming here? And I don't, at least not for long."

"Why am I here? Duh! To get dressed" she snapped waving a dress at him. That's when he looked down at her properly, she was naked. And he watched as she took a proper look at him too.

"Move then, there's hot water right?" She asked barging past him and to the shower, slinging the dress onto the towel rack.

"Yes" he replied and entered his bedroom; his clothes could stay on the bathroom floor for now. But hers were not staying on his bedroom floor. He gathered them together and emptied her pockets. An anomaly detector, smaller than he remembered was the only remarkable item. Others included a pocket knife, a journal and some string. That was it. Her backpack probably contained more and he left her pocket contents on the floor next to it and he traipsed slowly into his kitchen and threw her pants, shirt, socks and bra into the wash, no knickers, apparently she went commando now.

Now all that was left for him was to dry himself and put on his suit. So he quickly towelled down and picked a simple dark charcoal suit with a matching tie. And he supposed he should put on some loafers or whatever. He picked out his most practical pair, one that would withstand the weather and allow him to run and be comfortable in at the same time. Quite vainly he stared into the full length mirror, tucking in his shirt and pulling the tie to a suitable length, adjusting it so it hung directly over the buttons of his crisp white shirt. He ran his fingers through his hair, aware that the shower was shut off for the second time in twenty minutes. He knew Helen would be messing about with his deodorants and sprays, trying to find one she liked best to wear. But instead she stalked out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel with a hand on her hip.

"Do you have any moisturiser? Any at all? Even men's?" She asked briskly. He raised an eyebrow but nodded and walked past her into the bathroom and pulled open a cupboard under the sink. He pulled out face cream meant for after shaving when your face felt all prickly.

"Best I got" he shrugged passing it her.

"It will do" she pursed her lips and shut the bathroom door again, acting coy, as if they hadn't slept together before.

"It will do" he imitated bitterly and childishly.

He slumped onto his bed and waited. He didn't move besides the slow rise and fall of his chest with the occasional blink. The door clicked and he finally moved, swivelling his head in her direction. She wore a charcoal dress that was shiny, and he cursed, now people might think they were a couple because of their clothing that looked as though it had been designed for a couple to wear together. It was short and low-cut, clinging to her hips and slim waist. She wore short wedged ankle boots in a soft, velvety black. No accessories which could be considered weird, a bracelet or a necklace or something would probably not go amiss. Still, she looked good. More than good really but he couldn't travel that route again. She smiled a predatory smile and did a small swirl.

"What do you think?" She asked, he knew that whatever he said was more than likely to be ignored so he didn't really bother.

"It's good."

Her face fell minutely.

"What's good about it?" She weaselled, trying to tease a more thorough answer out of him. He sighed.

"Well, it shows your figure perfectly" he sat up and stood. She approached him.

"So does yours" she whispered as though it was a secret. She was leaning close into his personal space.

"Let's get going then" he stepped away from her and led the way to the front door, swiping his car key while he was at it. She followed and when he tried to open the door he found it locked.

"You lock it after yourself?" He asked puzzled.

"Yes." No humour there, pure and utter seriousness.

He pulled another key out of the bowl and unlocked the door, stepping out and holding it open for her. When she was stood behind him again he pulled it shut and locked it.

They walked in silence to his car, the blue Lexus from so long ago. She waited at the passenger door as he unlocked it and they both swung from upright positions into their seats gracefully. Purring, that's how he'd describe the noise of the engine, started up as he pulled out of the parking lot and drove in stony silence down the streets towards the main town square where Sadie's Gardens resided. Helen switched on the radio, and began fiddling with all the stations, which grated on his nerves.

"Glove box" he grinded out.

She pulled it open and rifled through several albums until she found one she liked. Popping the disk from its cover she carefully handled it and put it in the player. Oddly, she pressed the skip button twice so the third track would play. Wonderwall by Oasis. It was (What's the story) Morning Glory. Surprise flitted across his features, never figured her for a Brit pop person. And yet she was already humming along with the tune that everybody had heard, Oasis fan or not. It was catchy and he caught himself several times from humming along too. Gutter, because he really liked this song. It changed after a good few minutes of humming and mouthing the words, 'Don't look back in Anger' a classic and Helen even began to whisper sing the words. And in a momentary lapse, he sang the chorus with her, under his breath.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye, expecting some trick or devious plot. Now he was really starting to question his judgment. Why on Earth did he agree?

"Y'know, you were never supposed to die" she hummed while Noel strummed out a bouncy instrumental.

"Really? So what was I supposed to do then?" He questioned casually, pretending he wasn't bothered.

"You were supposed to be my escape plan. You were the backup, my insurance. And then you saw Nick. It all went tits up from that point." She was almost snarling, not at him directly though, her face was turned away and he knew she was gazing in the distance at the unknown she was aiming the hate at.

"Good to know. Either way, it happened and I'm fully recovered now" he lied, he knew and so did she. No one walks away from that and fully recovers, there would always be something at the back of his mind, he was pleased but surprised to find he wasn't a quivering wreck.

"Good to see. Shame about those scars though; you had such a nice face. You still do, except your mistakes, and admittedly mine, are etched there forever. And from what I saw earlier, your body is pretty lined. A lot of stitch scars on your calf, looks like it was ripped off and sown back together" she commented. A slight lascivious glint in her eye at the mention of 'earlier' and 'body'.

"Your mistakes, ha, you admit them after I almost die" he snorted incredulously; Helen never admitted mistakes, unless it would sway things into her favour. And if so, what was she after? Besides a free meal.

"Well, your death was, it was a mistake because it wasn't supposed to happen. We were supposed to leave together. Then it would have been your choice, stay and wallow in grief and if you eventually discovered the others were alive, in guilt, or you could have came with me. We make a good team, even you can't deny it" she blithely ignored his scandalised stare.

"Watch the road."

"Right." He focused on the road again. He pulled up on the sidewalk. They were just a few feet from Sadie's Gardens and their car park but he found them irksome, you always forgot where you parked the damn car in those places.

He exited the car quicker then Helen and waited impatiently for her to get out so he could lock the doors. Annoyingly, she took her time. When the doors were shut and locked he walked around to her side by the pavement and they began to walk to Sadie's, Helen weaved her arm around his and he didn't bother to shake her off, even though it added to an image he didn't exactly agree with. Instead, he pursed his lips and continued, rather valiantly considering the leech on his arm.

He held the door open for them and when they entered was relived to be out of the cold, it wasn't raining anymore thankfully. Christmas decorations lined the room and tinsel was draped around every frame, a giant advent calendar showed there was only four days to go. The waiter approached.

"Just the two of you?" He asked politely, if stiffly.

"Yes" Helen smiled charmingly, he softened. Sap, Stephen thought and then the cold ice his brain loved to pour down his shirt, he'd fallen for it too.

"Right this way" he smiled. He led them to a corner table, a bit away from other guests, of which there weren't that many. What looked to be a double date in the far corner and a few other couples dotted about in the large establishment.

"Somebody will be with you shortly" he informed them passing them two menus' each, one for food and one for drinks. Stephen took the menus and didn't spare him another glance while Helen offered her charming, grateful smile that was one big but pretty lie.

He scanned the menu for something he recognised and liked. Probably the steak and boiled potatoes seeing as he couldn't spot chips. He looked up at Helen once his choice was finalised and waited expectantly for her to share her choice so he could order when the waitress or waiter came.

"Well, what are you having then?" He asked finally.

"I think spaghetti and meatballs sounds delicious" Helen replied instantly, putting the menu down. He realised she'd already chosen before he'd asked and was just waiting for him to start a conversation with her.

"Hmm, and to drink?"

"Well, you're the designated driver so red wine, I don't care which."

"And I'll have coke then" he said, hoping they served it. He spotted movement out of the corner of his eye.

It was a pretty woman of what looked to be Jamaican descent wearing a tight but smart skirt and shirt with shiny badge, clearly a waitress. Her accent confirmed her to be Jamaican.

"Hello, I'm Hosanna; I will be your server for the evening. May I take your orders?" She smiled prettily.

"Hello Hosanna, we would like a bottle of red, surprise me, and a glass of coke and the spaghetti and meatballs and steak with boiled potatoes please" he ordered slowly so she could jot it into the notebook she'd procured from her apron belt.

"Of course, I will bring your drinks in a moment; please don't forget to let me know if you need anything else" Hosanna beamed at them before spinning on her heel and disappearing into the kitchens. Helen raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?" He asked bluntly.

"Hello Hosanna" she quoted.

"What about it?"

"Oh nothing" she chirped falsely.

"Liar. You jealous?" He asked, a bit shocked at the very notion. But then again, Helen was very possessive.

"No. Not at all" Helen stared into his eyes, almost defiantly. He nodded curtly a 'fair enough' expression plastered on his face, the first bit of even weak humour he'd shown in... Months. _I really need to get out more_, he thought to himself.

Silence lingered on them like a fine mist until Hosanna arrived with a small tray carrying two glasses and a bottle tucked in the crook of her elbow, one hand wrapped around the neck of bottle.

"Here you are bottle of red and a glass of coca-cola. I'll be back with your meals shortly" she smiled kindly and moved away again swiftly once she'd set the glasses and bottle down.

"Twist-y cap" Helen mused looking at the wine bottle. Stephen nodded.

"Do you think they'd make me use a glass if I just necked it?" Helen asked. Stephen nodded. Helen frowned.

"Are you giving me the silent treatment or has the cat got your tongue? If it has, tell it to give it back."

**A/N: Thanks! Keep checking for updates.**


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